


The Phenomenology of Ford Pines

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Falling In Love, Incest, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford traveled while displaced from his original dimension. One time, he finds himself in a Gravity Falls unfamiliar to him. Here, he meets a woman who makes it all not matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 0

**Author's Note:**

> This is a joke of a headcanon I love so much. It's meant to be hard to understand but the years listed will help!

**2026**

* * *

 

Mabel stands back, two fingers at her chin to admire the work. Colorful splotches coat her frame and it's not all from the result of her painting; her original outfit indistinguishable underneath. She nods and grins. It's animatronic, coming apart at the seams, and utterly lovely. Really, 26 and still has yet to reach her peak!

“It's a bit vulgar, wouldn't you say?” Comes a voice from her side.

She turns, shocked at the man's comment. His dark hair in the same unkempt state he usually carries alluding to the extensive time he spends with his inventions. “How can you say that?”

He shakes his head to reassure. “Not your additions,” he places an arm around her shoulders, “that makes it bearable. I'm talking about my craftsmanship. Shoddy and in need of improvement. I should be doing better now that I'm almost 40. A hindrance to your efforts.”

She beams at him. “Yeah, that's the Mabel difference, Ford!” Her arm swirls in a circular motion and ends in a snap of fingers near her head. Ask her and she'll tell you she is positive there is a gleam coming off her fingers as if to illustrate a sparkle in accordance with her mannerisms.

He grins down and brings his forehead to hers. “I can only be so lucky to have such a creative director at my side.” A quick kiss to her temple before he backs away. “Who are you showing this to again?”

Her hands form fists to her chest as she faces him, eyes large and possibly twinkling. “The world,” she whispers.

He laughs and holds her closer. "That's an appropriate term for tourists."

“It's like we have some artistic license to bring to life the creations of an animation company with world renowned prestige.” She narrows her eyes, tapping her chin.

“Mabel, your talent will never cease to amaze! My work would be nothing but words and numbers, and the occasional diligent sketch. While I'm fine with that I know the greater public isn't. You make it all digestible and pleasing to a wider audience.”

“Hold up. Are you placing me in the ranks of people-pleaser _froyo_ because nothing would be more of an honor.”

He gently turns her head with a hand to her chin. “Like the frozen yogurt of all dimensions.” He is such a dork, she thinks, as her eyes close and he kisses her.

“Well,” he releases her, "I have more work to do before I create something that produces the appropriate type of power.”

He walks away and she calls after him. “Wait, Ford?”

“Yes?” He turns. “What's the matter?”

She freezes and nervously laughs. “O-oh.” Mabel quickly thinks of something else to say beside the looming concern over the nature of his work. “You-you silly goose. You finish with dessert and are telling me there isn't any hiding in your coat?”

He laughs heartily. “Why, I do believe you're right. My apologies. I'll make sure to have some ready next time.” He turns once more and stops not a second later. “Oh, wait,” he says to himself. He goes through his pockets and takes out a clear packet of thick burgundy paste and tosses it in her direction with a smile. “I did remember to make something from those tamarinds you brought earlier.” She catches it and this time he leaves.

She's proud she avoided formulating words from her gut feeling, but she can't prevent the look of sadness on her face as she sighs into the packet in her hands. “ _Next time_ , huh?” She breathes in the scent of smoky sweetness. Her eyes light up from the pleasant smell. “Ooh. Dammit, Ford.” She rips the packet with her teeth and squeezes the contents into her mouth. “So good!”

 

* * *

 

Ford walks into his pseudo workshop to continue tinkering with another contraption. He knows this is nothing but a waste of time. Every smile he produces from Mabel is only prolonging the inevitable, and, most crucially, _messing_ with time.

While it is true he has yet to fully charge the dimensional jumper, he shouldn't be cavorting with emotions like he is. Perhaps it is the lingering doubt of singularity in timelines which lead him to believe he may not be causing any harm in the end. As soon as his jumper is charged he knows it will be good for decades. Of course, that will not matter with what it'll take to get out here.

He sighs in defeat. He should know better than to think this isn't real. He has made a life in an almost alternate universe. One where he wasn't consumed by oddities and has nothing to prove. In this life he has carved, he chose to spend it with someone and he can't bring himself to reverse it. Not yet. Since his arrival, he has let his emotions get the better of him when he should have been adept at secluding himself through the immersion of his work. It's all he has ever done.

He stayed at the first redflag. How can he do this to her now?

 

* * *

 

Mabel walks into the workshop expecting to see Ford, but he is absent. She walks around the room, the two large wooden desks against the back and side wall, and the rest of the room littered with mechanical ingenuity. She lightly prods a few contraptions until she sees something move from the corner of her eye. She jumps back until she realizes it's the blinking light from one of his bots. She is disappointed, hoping there was a furry friend instead.

She sits on the only chair in the crowded room and thumbs through the paperwork on the closest desk. Tracing each outline and reading blueprints of things yet to be and memories of times long passed. These don't hint to anything Ford is planning, but she doesn't need that proof. She has firsthand intimate knowledge that she will never reveal to him.

She looks at the switchboard diagram and notices an arrow pointing to a large blank square on the upper left of the sketch. 'Mabel could use this!' it reads. She laughs, happy it is void of what this handwriting used to read so long ago.

 

* * *

 

“Shouldn't you be working on your birthday?”

Mabel gasps. “Shouldn't _you_?” She says haughtily.

“You're correct. Otherwise it wouldn't be a sur—” Her hands come up to his mouth in an effort to silence him.

“Shh!” she warns. “Don't tell me!”

He grabs the hands and lowers them. She looks at him.

“You know it's already been a year, right?”

“Huh?” He says. “Oh! Since I arrived.”

“Yes.” She looks off to the side while the drags out the word. “Do you want to do something?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don't think that's necessary.” He looks at her hands in his. “After all, the day we met isn't as important as when we worked everything out.”

She laughs. “Or the day I found out you were my time-traveling uncle?”

He groans. “Or that.”

She removes her hands from his and places them around his neck. “Not that any of it matters.” He leans in and kisses her. She moves her fingers into his hair and feels his hands on her back. She pulls back with a light smack.

“I expect my surprise birthday to be ten times better than that, Fordsy!”

He laughs. “I'm on it.”

He kisses her cheek before letting go and resuming his work.

Mabel walks away and enters the shack, leaning against the frame in the hallway and picks at he pendant on her neck. He may not think she knows, but she is privy to the inevitable.


	2. This isn't home

  **????**

* * *

 

Ford falls back, still unused to interdimensional landings, but his reflexes get him on his feet within seconds. He runs on fear and a necessity to live as he looks around erratically, expecting danger in whatever form it may come in.

Yet nothing happens and this place is quiet. His breathing is ragged and eventually calms as he takes in the surroundings. There is light and—what's more—it's _sun_ light. However, he knows better than most to get his hopes up as he examines the landscape. There are trees all around him and he's on a poorly maintained asphalt road that cuts through the forest. This scenery is oddly familiar. His dark clothing, a patched black and gray sweater and slacks, intended to camouflage in chaotic environments only stands out. The heat from the area seeps through and he makes the connection.

 _No… this can't be! It's a summer in…_ “Gravity Falls!?”

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. This could be anything, but it's all too real and similar. He moves to the trees along the road. The conifers have a reliable, retained hardiness that slowly reaffirms his place. “No, no. This is definitely earth.” Ford reaches out to touch a young sapling. “This is Gravity Falls, but I couldn't have—oh?”

There is a discarded wrapper next to its roots. He picks it up and backs out to the brightened road. Unfortunately, he can't make out any clarifying information on it. It had been on the ground failing to decompose for much too long. He brings his attention back to the trees and tries to recall what they looked like before… but it's useless. Trees have a steady growth rate, but he never paid the regular ones attention. He has to make a very important decision here. With a hand to his chin, he begins to consider the possibilities and is abruptly startled by a jarring noise.

It's the honk of a car and he rushes off the street. “How odd! It was incredibly silent.” He doesn't waste time marveling its differed appearance—he's seen many bizarre things since going through the portal some months ago—he looks for a license plate.

 _Oregon_. Check.

 _Gravity Falls_. Check.

 _2025_. Now, that was unexpected. A far cry from the 1980s. Plate sticker laws aren't too reliable, but it's a good start.

He has his bearings now. Somewhat. And he knows he shouldn't be here. This is dangerous territory and any anomalies which result will only be messes he does not want to be responsible for. Of course, that's comparatively minimal to the damage he dealt with his machine. It should have been catastrophic for him to be back here. The only logical conclusion as to why nothing has happened would be that this future didn't carry any of those repercussions.

He scratches his head. There is way too much to consider and he doesn't even know why he is here. He got here from dimension jumping and there was no way the device he crafted was capable of time traveling. Then again, he had been running from indescribable terrors so much he never stopped to figure out what these devices he picks up and tinkers with actually do.

He has no interest in gaining knowledge from the future. That's the lazy man's route of discovery. There is nothing for him here. At least Gravity Falls is safe in this timeline. He sighs and reaches into his pocket to take out the tiny dimensional jumper he created three dimensions back. It's flat and square with a dull gray casing. The three tiny lights in its center are dim, an indication to its current power levels.

“Damn. It's empty.” That answers his question on how he got here. It used up all the energy and jumped dimensions through time. He really has to rework this contraption.

He has no choice. He has to stay here and get this working again so he can go—

“There is no home for me anymore.”

He only needs to get out of here. Going back to his old research facility is out of the question. Not after the trouble he caused and his efforts to distance himself from his greatest mistake. He makes his way into town, shielding the sun from his eyes with an arm. Maybe there will be no sleeping next to the embers of a fire tonight.

 

* * *

 

While he resided in Gravity Falls, he never interacted with its people. Perhaps that's why he finds himself en route to his former lab. He can see the steep angle of the roof peeking through the trees and hates that he still made his way to what he should be avoiding. He imagines the look on his face couldn't be any more glum when someone steps out from the trees.

“Hello!”

“Ah!” Ford steps back, nearly thrown off balance, and has to readjust his glasses, pocketing his hands immediately to avoiding drawing attention. He looks at the young woman in front of him and forgets to breathe. Cropped brown hair swept to one side with tiny ice cream sandwiches as barrettes, light sweeps of electric blue to her eyelids, and a choker with a tiny indiscernible framed photo. She isn't much shorter than him, less than 5 inches, he estimates.

He coughs into his hand. He has never been good at talking to women and this remains true even with the previous months of living on adrenaline. This shouldn't be a concern after staving death was becoming routine to him!

She beams a bright smile at him that ticks his nerves higher an inch. “I just _know_ you are here for the revamped virtual Murder Mystery! Now, all you need is the app and we can–”

“I'm sorry,” he interrupts, “but I'm trying to find a…phone booth?” He doesn't really, but it would be best to limit his exchanges with people from the future.

The girl narrows her eyes. “Oh.” She looks him over and he feels self-conscious for a moment. He tries to distract himself and notices her own bright attire. Her salmon pink cardigan is dotted with tiny silicon computer chips that remind him Fiddleford. It brings a meek smile to his lips. Her pale azure pleated skirt is decorated with a very faint argyle in the most peculiar fade pattern.

“There's one public phone left in town,” he snaps out of his thoughts, “probably the last one in the whole state. It's around the corner from the diner.”

“Oh, thank you,” he grins, although this is unneeded information. He turns to leave, but is stopped.

“B-but you can just use my phone!”

He turns around. A faint blush on her face.

“I mean.” A shift of her leg. “It's just right here and all.” She holds out a small black slate in his direction.

He pockets his hands deeper and looks at the thin glass slab with puzzlement.

“ _OH._ ” she brings the phone back to her view. “I keep forgetting there are still people out there who refuse to own cell phones. Not that it's a problem what with _everyone_ using them, but okay. Tell me the number, I'll dial it in.”

“Oh, uh.” He bluffs a number. “5-4-1-6-2-7-2-3-6-3”

She inputs the digits, Ford assumes, as her finger glides across the glass. He recalls the mobile phones in his day and they certainly were in their infancy since the one in her hand held no resemblance to an actual phone. Perhaps this was the result of a pager and phone combined.

She holds the phone between them as he hears touch tones without any movement from her. So intriguing! Then an 'out of service' recording plays.

“It doesn't appear to be connected anymore.” She tilts her head and grins at him. “Come with me! My brother might know how to help you. Plus,” She looks him over once more. “You look like him after one of his infamous benders. Sans alcohol, of course.”

Stanford follows the odd woman who may very well be his only hope to leaving this timeline.

 

* * *

 

He arrives at the house that was once his. It's surreal and unwelcoming. It appears to have been bought and remodeled with a large parking lot by the new owners. Which must be, in part, this woman.

Ah. Well. The lab would have either remained hidden or torn out he figures. Now is not the time to worry about that.

“Wait here, Secret Man. I'll be right back.” He stands on what could be the lawn of this place as she rushes to his old research facility. “Dipper, get your map-drawing butt out here!”

A young man of similar stature to the girl walks out from the house. “What's up, Mabel? Oof!” She pulls on his flannel sleeve to bring the man closer to her. The two are discussing out of his hearing range and he catches the man glancing at him a few times. The young man—Dipper, he assumes—nods to his sister and the two walk in his direction with a grin plastered on the woman's face. It really is very pretty.

“Hi.” The man waves. “I'm Dipper.”

Ford is caught off-guard as he hadn't considered what alias he was going with in this world. Thankfully, the woman intervenes with a shocked scream and latches onto Dipper's shoulder.

“Mabel!”

“I haven't introduced myself! Oh, shucks.” She gives the most sincere smile he's seen in years and Stanford feels a dubious tug in his gut. “And I'm Mabel!” She salutes.

He looks between them. “Call me F–Filbrick. A pleasure to meet you two.” He returns their smiles.

The man gives him a look that is eerily familiar. It's an analytical one he himself wears occasionally as it assesses him. “Okay, Filbrick.” An unconvinced tone. “What's the problem?”

“Oh, um. Yes, well. I am afraid I can not reach my,” he looks off to the side, “contacts and I only require general directions.”

Dipper ponders with his chin to his knuckles. “Hm. Mabel told me you were abandoned?”

“Oh, well.” He looks over to her and she giggles behind a hand. “Not exactly. I was stranded while hitchhiking and have quite the conundrum on my hands without a phone.” It wasn't a whole lie, he is merely leaving out a few details. It would be key to keep all his explanations brief and vague. He had no idea what had fallen out of use since his time. Of course, America long had pockets of “backward” places and he is now eternally grateful Gravity Falls is one of them.

“That must have been some time ago judging by your clothes.”

“Ah.” Ford looked down to his clothes and realized his ill-fitting black garments and disheveled appearance must be hinting to something more. “I'm from the coast and have taken a tumble or two since arriving in these backwoods.”

This seems to pacify the young man as his suspicious gaze subsides.

“Let me give you the Mabel-tour!” Mabel leans an elbow against her brother, hand to her chin, eyes gleaming with the reflecting angle of the sun. “If you're stuck here, you might as well get to know the area.”

“Mabel,” he places a hand to her shoulder, “we can just take him to the diner.”

“No!” She leans her face closer to the young man. “Look at him! He's a clueless goldfish lost in his big bowl. Plus, it's an 'off' day”

“Mabel, that is not the right expression.”

“If I may,” Ford looks at them. “It is true that I am _lost_.”

Mabel grins triumphantly at Dipper. “See, bro-bro? Mabel-whisperer.”

“Again, wrong way to use the phrase.”

“Tut!” She looks away from her brother and focuses on Ford, grinning.

“Uh.” He scratches the back of his neck and returns the smile. “I'll take the tour?”

The woman squeals. “I'll be right back and we can begin a world of adventure.” She retreats into the house leaving him alone with the young man.

“I am indebted to you and your sister for the assistance.”

Dipper hums. “If you're in town and still need help you can find us here.”

“Thank you.” Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, Stanford asks, “This is a small town. Are you from here?”

“Oh.” Dipper looks perturbed for a moment before the expression fades. “No. Mabel and I moved here with our uncle.”

“Ah.” So the house was sold. These two seem normal enough to be living in an area with an absurd amount of anomalies. “It is a gorgeous place.”

The door slams open and Mabel steps out, posing victoriously. “And we're off!”

She runs up to Ford's side and he notices she has a small satchel with her that appears quite full.

“Good luck, Filbrick.” Dipper says as he is dragged off.

 

* * *

 

After three hours of being escorted around the town and enduring what he knows are incorrect facts regarding the area, they come to a stop.

“And, finally, the diner!” Mabel juts her arms out in a presenting motion. “For all your pancake or embarrassing-your-brother needs!”

His stomach growls in that inopportune moment. “My apologies.”

“Let's go try some now.”

 

* * *

 

The two are seated in a booth across from one another as Mabel requests two orders of pancakes. She looks at him and flashes an easing smile. “It's on me. The Mabel-tour special.”

“It is an appreciated generosity.” He has to collect himself. Although there weren't too many differences that could be noted aside from fashion choices and technology, it is still overwhelming. If this woman's information was any indication, he doesn't have much to learn in the town.

“How long will you be in Gravity Falls?” She interrupts his thoughts.

“Only until I can secure proper transportation to my next destination.”

She scoffs. “And how do you know that isn't here?”

Staying here? That isn't a serious choice. The place may seem relatively safe and his knowledge of the past and far away dimensions is not threatening, but it doesn't change the fact he does not belong here. Still, he humors her. “Well, Mabel, I don't know if it is.” As soon as he says it, however, he knows it feels wrong. In his gut he knows hiding out in timelines is dangerous. He doesn't know how long it will take to fix his jumper. Hopefully, it won't be too long.

“You know,” she looks out the window. “You remind me of someone.”

“I trust someone you are fond of?”

She smiles at him without turning to face him. “Yeah, you can say that.”

“Two usuals!” An elderly woman places a stack of pancakes in front of both.

“Ah, Susan, did you remember my—?”

“And extra boysenberry,” she places a jar of jam on the table, “plus whipped cream.” Followed by a chilled bowl of freshly whipped cream.

Mabel squeals. “Thank you!” She proceeds to combine everything on the table into something he is almost sure is a hazard to consume. Then she attacks it with a fervor that would rival someone on the run like him. It is impressive, if anything.

He looks at his own and realizes how long he has gone without eating a meal that wasn't obtained through scavenging or ill-circumstance. He smiles in a welcoming relief that washes over him as he quickly eats his own stack while she is distracted, tilting his hand just so to aid in the illusion of normalcy.

 

* * *

 

“That was delicious. Thank you, Mabel.”

“Ah…” She leans back in the padded seat, undoubtedly very full from such a large intake of sugar. “That was so good.” She pats her stomach. “Don't mention it. Welcome to Gravity Falls!”

“Huh.” Ford thinks back to his conversation with Dipper. “Your brother mentioned you two moved to this town yourselves?”

Oh, yeah. Psh.” She waves a hand. “This place is the best! You won't want to leave either!”

“You two seem awfully young.”

“What! I'm 26 and so is Dipper.” She coughs into her hand. “Okay, we _will_ be at the end of August and today is the last day of July, so we're practically there.”

This surprises him. “You both are?”

“Couldn't you tell? We're twins!”

“Ah.” That was not a coincidence. His gut feeling is kicking in again.

“Yeah,” She gushes. “We're kind of a crowd favorite.”

He smiles. “It is refreshing to see siblings who get along as you two do.”

For a moment, her facial expression changes to the suspicious one her brother held earlier, but it is gone in the next. “He's a boring nerd who is going off venturing for some science later this week when he could just stay here!”

He smiles. “I wholeheartedly agree.” He doesn't, but he'll keep that to himself for now.

“Right. I'll go pay and you can wait outside, okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

He heads outside as instructed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if this was his only hope to leave the timeline. Staying in Gravity Falls while he figures out how to leave it. It may be sometime before that takes place and he wouldn't mind if his time increased with this charming woman. He would need to get some gloves, though. It is important to keep his identity a secret at all costs. He is Stanford Pines, but in this timeline that could mean anything from a ghost to a villain. He had to be careful and embody another persona. He is stuck, for now.

“I'm back!” Mabel appears without a sound and shocks him for the umpteenth time.

“You have a level of stealth that I could only ever hope to achieve, Mabel.”

She chuckles. “That's me. 'Sneaky Mabel',” she says with a lowered pitch to her voice.

“Alright, let's get you to… Oh, goodness, where are you staying at?”

“If you can direct me to the nearest motel, that would be most kind.”

“You don't even have somewhere to stay? Oh, this is so sad!” She grabs his arm. “Okay. The guy who owns the motel owes me a favor so I can get your stay covered.” She tugs him to the direction of his final destination for the day.

He raises his eyebrows and hopes his entire stay here will be this jubilant at least.


	3. You can't run

**2012**

* * *

 

“They're your family,” Stanley says. “Shermie's grandkids.”

“A niece and a nephew.” It feels more real now. They're so young. “Greetings!” And it's Mabel. Her eyes carry the same luster that will never fade. They're joyous and Ford has to remind himself this isn't the woman he knew.

And misses.

“Do children still say 'greetings'?”

Mabel speaks and it makes him laugh. Still the same, even with braces and the never-changing colorful demeanor. She reminds him so much of the life he abandoned and realizes the redundancy in nostalgia of the future.

“I like this kid. She's weird.”

He feels a bit of the stability he once knew since being thrust into his proper timeline. That is, until his focus is back on Dipper and Stanley, and it all goes downhill from there.

 

* * *

 

Stanford tried to keep his distance, he truly did. The boy was persistent and insatiable, however. Always demanding, but it was honestly endearing because it was so much like him. Now, he knows where the future Dipper gained his penchant for science. Perhaps he could influence even greater opportunities for Dipper. It wouldn't be so bad to have a companion to help him forget about the fact someone he once dated had yet to turn 13. It really is a perplexing situation that he would prefer to keep at bay.

Ford keeps himself immersed in his work but the state of affairs within his long since changed house do steadily seep in. Mostly because Dipper keeps him up to date.

Dipper can’t seem to tell that Mabel isn't fond of his relationship with Dipper. He wouldn't want that either if he were in her place. He doesn't want to develop a stagnant relationship with his grand-niece.

Having it around him, the concept of living with Mabel, is causing faded scars to feel fresh. He lived decades without her, but, here, he sees her and feels more guilt than ever. It is crucial that he places these experiences in separate planes. What happened to him _then_ was with a younger version of him who, by all accounts, no longer exists. For now, he must do everything he can to ensure that a future will exist at all now.

He is back where he belongs and in the mess he created. This is what he must focus on. He has to face the wrath he brought onto this world. And Dipper will be there with him.

 

* * *

 

It has been a process figuring out the tactics he and Dipper will use against Bill. In his moments of solitude, he unfortunately finds himself thinking just how connected the realities he has lived are. How does he know for certain that this Mabel will grow up to be the one he met so many years ago in the forest that surrounds this house? If they are, he wonders what else Mabel kept from him. The knowledge she gained from living with him already once before. How much did she know of these events yet to transpire?

He breathes.

Technically, _this_ moment and timeline are not guaranteed to have that future. Any single element and difference can change and diverge it. _It hasn't happened._  He should stop feeling guilty about what hasn't come to pass. The Mabel he hurt can't be if they don't exist.

He doesn't owe the Mabel here.


	4. There was no later

**2027**

* * *

 

Mabel lights the firework and the two watch it light up the sky (and become a fire hazard).

“2027, baby!” She lowers her sunglasses for added effect. “Ah! Too dark! Can't see!” A hand catches her before she takes a tumble from the roof.

“Here, try these.” Ford hands her green-shaded glasses.

“Ah!” She dons them. “Take that, revolution of the earth!”

“Indeed.” Stan licks the popsicle Mabel handed him earlier.

She grins at him and takes his hand to bring the popsicle closer to take a significant bite. “Happy New Year, Ford.”

“Are you okay with the bite you took?”

Her eye begins twitching. “Ow, ow, ow!” He strokes her hair as she crouches then stands immediately after. “I'm okay!” She fumbles. “This is the year of Mabel!"

“Every year is.”

She blushes and hooks her arms around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. He holds her with his free hand and tastes the artificial flavorings on her tongue.

When she breaks away she grins at him then leans over to take another bite of the popsicle.

“Ow.”

“Seriously. Mabel.”

 

* * *

 

Days after new years, he has trouble finding Mabel and he has a hunch as to why. He caught her before she hid away again.

“Tut-tut, sir!”

“Mabel?”

“No peeking! I am in charge of your party this year.”

“Mabel, I'm going to be 37. I doubt this is all necessary. “

“Ah!” Her hands to her head. “I get what you're telling me.” She points a finger at him. “You want more _boom!_ Well, honey, if there is one thing I can do more of, it's that.”

Ford can't help but laugh at that.

 

* * *

 

Ford is quiet with the door. Mabel is partied out and she did a fabulous job. He can't remember the last time he celebrated his birthday in such a way. It cemented his decision: it was time to leave. Mabel will never know when he left, but she'll know he did and why.

He is out of her place and heads back to the desolate road where this all began. The creatures and people of this town calmed with the threat of sunrise.

Here, surrounded by the dark forest, Ford wonders why he creates a mess everywhere he goes.

He takes out the device that has been fixed and charged for awhile now. He needs to rid the emotions he is feeling over leaving this place. He has to do this. He knows it's right. He doesn't belong here and hasn't been himself since he arriving. It's a split second of a buzz and faintly distinguishable lights in the cold wind, and Stan officially leaves this timeline.

He had been there for 1 year and 5 months. He is ready to spend the remainder of his life running away from the danger he can't forget exists.

 

* * *

 

 

The room is nothing but piles of dismantled computer parts and machinery, all neatly arranged. On one of the tables is a stack of papers. Mabel sits here and sifts through them. The first one is a blueprint with a large red checkmark and a sticker that reads 'winner'. The second is a note she had written in order to communicate with Ford during busy times. 

_What kind of cake do you want?_

_I'm not too fond of cake._

_DO YOU LIKE FOOD?_

_I'll take the cake._

That was the end of that conversation. Mabel lifts the paper and holds it up to the bulb of the lamp. Heat spreads through the fibers of the sheet and discoloration reveals another line. Unlike the ones she was used to seeing written from panic, this one wasn't because of threats.

_I am going to miss this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the birthday thing is wrong, oh well.


	5. Something tells me this is a bad idea

**2025**

* * *

 

“Where would I find these materials?” Ford sits on a tree stump in his once favored observation grounds with gloves concealing an extra pinkie while Mabel tempts to lure one of the woodland creatures.

“I swear, Filbrick, sometimes you act like someone who was living in a cave!”

“Well…”

Her hand goes up. “Don't tell me if it's true. That's a shell shocker I'm not prepared for.” She stands to pose and point to the sky. “You're a man of Gravity Falls now! The past is irrelevant!”

He hums. If only that were so. “That's a novel idea.”

“And one you'll get used to.” She snaps her fingers. “And I'm pretty sure Dipper left some nerd things behind.”

“I trust you are referring to spare computer parts no one has any need for.”

“Yeah, definitely.” She takes a seat on the ground next to him. “You know, Filbrick?”

“Yes, Mabel?”

“You don't have that overbearing know-it-all personally nerds usually have. You talk science, but you don't do anything about it unlike two people I know.” She bemoans.

“Oh? Are you sure you just haven't spent enough time with me?” Or that he doesn't have the tools and a space to do much about it.

“Hey. _And_ you know how to have fun.”

“I'm quite certain I'm gaining that aspect from you.” He smiles at her and she smiles back.

He has been here for a month and learned charging his jumper will require more than a plug and an overnight charge. A hand is at his shoulder as she looks at the paper in his hands. He has also learned spending time with Mabel is most definitely a favored activity.

He is still very focused on returning to a life on the run, but it is hard to oppose these moments where he forgets these concerns. The kind of pleasant amnesia she blesses him with in a place he once catalogued odd findings. During this time, she has shown him the entire town and helped him get settled. His reluctance in being near his former research facility is fading as she coaxed him into these woods. She's briefly shared details about the attraction she runs in the house that was once his. It is conflicting to continue these moments with Mabel. He knows what his main goal is.

She stands. “Well, let's make our way over to the 'Shack'.”

“'Shack'?” He stands.

“Yeah. It will always be the 'Shack' to Dipper and I!”

“How so?”

“That was its original name. Grunkle Stan may not always be around, but we cater it now! And to the tourists. Well, with our own personal upgrades. Of course, it's mostly me this time around.”

“You are quite gifted in the creativity department.”

She gasps with wide eyes. “Thank you! We decided against adding the family name to the place since there was no need with the ease in using emblems in the merchandise to signify it.”

“Your family name has a symbol?” He hopes she isn't referring to an ornamental crest.

“We're the infamous Pines clan! Very easy to plaster a tree everywhere.”

He freezes. That _has_ to be a coincidence. “Pines family?” If only she could decipher the fear his voice.

“Yup! The Shack was created by the mastermind Stan Pines. He has pride in us.”

He is getting very nervous now. “Is Stan short for something?”

“Stanley Pines, the one and only, conman extraordinaire!” She leans in and lowers her voice. “But don't let the secret out that I'm the only who can outsmart him.”

He is frozen. A Stanley Pines which resided in the last place he saw him? There is an incredibly large possibility this woman is related to him! Has he really been flirting with his—he does the calculations in his head—great-niece this entire time?

How on earth had he let this go on?

“Filbrick!” She blows in his ear. “Whomp.” A gentle touch to his cheek.

“Ah!” He covers both ears with a blush on his face. “What was that for?”

“Well, you were spaced out. I had to do something.”

“Mabel, I have to go.”

“What? But don't you need help with finding—?”

“It's alright! Maybe another— I got to go now.”

He touches his cheek and feels a paper that has been stuck on. He peels it off carefully and looks at it. It's a sticker of a question mark.

 

* * *

 

The two have developed the habit of eating pancakes for dinner on weekend nights at Greasy's. He finds himself staying true to the routine as he seats himself at an empty booth. Mabel isn't here, however. The elderly woman comes up to the table.

“Two orders of pancakes and one with everything for Mabel, I presume?”

“Um, I believe today I'll be—”

The door slams open and Mabel walks in. Flustered and breathing labored. She sits across from him with the most forced stoic face he has ever seen. “Hi, Filbrick.” Her voice oddly higher pitched.

“Two usuals with the extra fixins for my darling Mabel coming right up.” The woman walks away.

“Hello Mabel.” He coughs. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine! Why do you ask?” He swears her maroon turtleneck is attempting to take her head in.

“Well. If you say so.” He takes a deep breath. “Mabel, there is something I have to tell you.”

“Yeah?” She glances at him and her eyes look sad.

“I,” he rethinks his initial plan. “I'm sorry I didn't get to have a look at the parts, could you show me the next time you are free?”

“Oh, yes!”

“And I just want to say that you have an honorable penchant for family. It's a trait not everyone can claim.”

A small look of shock covers her face. She stares hard when two plates are dropped in front of them.

He begins to eat and does not notice that she does not.

Mabel looks at him. “Hey, Filbrick?" He directs his sight to her as she traces a finger on the surface of the table. The tiniest hairs fall in her face over her emerald headband. Her eyes are downcast but their warmth is still visible from this angle. Her earrings feature a sunrise and he wonders when she made these.  

Infatuation is the least experienced arena for him. “Filbrick?”

“Yes, Mabel?”

Mabel grasps the larger gloved hand from across the table of the booth. “Stanford.”

Ford drops his fork. It clatters onto the tabletop. She challenges him with a stern face. 

“Pardon?” he breathes softly. He knows he heard correctly.

“Oh, God. It is you, Ford.” She releases his hand.

He is silent. There is so much going on in his mind now. He can't calm his thoughts and the adrenaline is building.

“You're my uncle aren't you?”

“I—”

“Why didn't you freak out at that accusation!?" It's a harsh whisper yet with evident emotion. "Anyone else would have thought that was absurd!” She looks down. “Why didn't you deny it?” She sounds hurt.

“Mabel, how,” he must choose his words carefully, “did you you arrive to this conclusion?”

“Your name." She exhales. "The name you were going by is 'Filbrick' and Dipper was telling me how familiar this sounded to him. Usually, I ignore his crazy ideas like this, but I had that suspicion, too. So, after he left to work on his post-research, I looked through my Grunkle's things.”

He gulps.

Her eyes look off to the side. “Certain things you would say really bugged me! It sounded like my uncle.” An accusing finger points at him. “And the handwriting and— You know I have two Grunkles, right? Stan and Ford?”

He's surprised. “Stanley and Stanford?” She gasps. He releases a held breath, moves a hand over hers, but now feels acutely aware of their situation and pulls it away. “Mabel. It wasn't intentional, but, essentially, I am an accidental time traveler who has been thrust more than 30 years in in the future.”

“I wasn't even born yet!”

“I know.”

She looks down. “And you knew we were related?”

“Not immediately. I assumed my house was sold to a local family and—wait, did you say _I'm_ here?”

Mabel looks up, startled. “Uh…”

“You know your great uncle Stanley and…me.”

“Hey!” She cools her expression. “You knew who I was so who's holding out on who?”

He looks up at her, finally letting the guilt and shame sink in and override all other emotions.

“Blah!” Mabel closes a hand over each ear and stands up. “Okay, that's enough talk about this. I have to go.” She gets up to leave only to turn around and glare at Ford as she picks up her plate of pancakes.

She rushes out and Ford feels like trash.

 

* * *

 

Ford is in his room at the motel when he hears a knock at the door.

“Mabel?”

“Hi.” She smiles wide and bright, light from the lamps in his room reflecting off her and the '512' of the door, never showing any turmoil. “Can we talk?”

“Yes, of course.” She walks in and takes a seat at the desk as he closes the door.

“Show me your hands.” She demands.

He knew this was coming. He stands in front of her and holds out his 12 fingers nearly an arms length away.

“So,” she begins, crossing her arms. “Did you come here freely? Were you trying to find me?"

He is confused. "No. This was completely by mistake. It is all a coincidence, I assure you."

"Hm." She tightens her face as she process this. "Are you going to leave now?”

“What?”

“You're from the past and all that other important science junk, plus you're my great uncle. Are you going to run out on me?”

“You sound like you don't want me to.”

“So,” her face remains stoic, “you were.”

He sighs. “If you wish for me to leave Gravity Falls, I can.”

“You don't need to do that. Pft.” She shrugs. “Not on account of me, at least.” Her actions don't match how troubled her eyes portray her as. He takes a seat on the bed so he is a respectful distance away.

“I just,” she continues, “want to know what you thought when you…found out.”

“Oh,” He rubs the back of his head. “Initially, shame and shock. I had traveled to the future and by all rights there shouldn't be anyone related to me here, not how I left it.”

She hums. Deep in thought.

“If I may, Mabel?” He pauses and she nods. “How are you so readily to accept that I am from the past?"

“Oh.” She looks off to the side, uninterested. “Previous experience.” Makes a sweeping motion with her hand.

“I see. Well, Gravity Falls is a special case for the unconventional.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You're telling me.”

He can't help a tiny laugh. “I won't inquire about what you know and what I know concerning our respective times.”

“That would keep things less confusing.”

“I am a bit curious as to when you found out.”

“Oh.” She grips her knees. “I had more of a very strong hunch and the last piece of the puzzle would be time travel, but that wasn't confirmed yet.”

“You were still doubting?”

“I thought there was no way we were related! After all, you were too attractive.” She freezes in her motions with wide eyes.

“Thank you.” He smiles, slightly flustered. “If it helps aid your own admission, I thought the same. I was enchanted.”

“Are you still,” she asks quietly as she stares at the ground, possibly hoping he didn't hear it.

In this culmination, he decides he hates how he feels. He reaches for her hand in the short space between them and she squeezes his hand in return. “It's impossible not to be.”

She walks over and holds onto his chin, folding her legs on either side of the man's waist on the bed. Eyes stare down into his as he breathes long and steady, hands moving to hold her. He leans in to kisses her and she presses herself closer. She breaks away and, with a smirk, whispers, “great uncle Ford.”


	6. Priorities and justice

**2012**

* * *

 

Wouldn't it be lovely, Ford muses, if family weren't so suffocating?

Stanley is nothing but a reminder of everything wrong and right. It drives him up the walls. And he can't be around Mabel without the inkling of regret. He keeps trying to console himself with the logic that those events haven't taken place, but how can he call the remorse he endured as a result  _nothing_?

Regardless, for the life he knew and the life that has yet to be, he must work on preserving its existence. Maybe Mabel from this time won't grow into the one he knew and that is fine. What must be done, however, is ensure it will happen at all.

“Dipper, we can find your sister soon.” It is not a time to be worrying about those who hinder success. There are only a few people who posses the capacity to alter the direction which the world is now moving in.

He is going to achieve this feat with Dipper. The boy was oblivious to the reservations concerning the time he spends with the mad scientist that he is (save for Stanley's very explicit warnings) and it was not unjustified. It was very true. Ford is a dangerous person with knowledge extending space and time. He knows there is risk in the future and the alternate timelines it can manifest as. Now, he stands with Dipper, forced to take down the arguably strongest entity throughout dimensions. He knew there was a chance this had come to pass in the future he resided in and they emerged victorious. The conundrum at the moment was figuring out how they did it.

 

* * *

 

It was game of wit in the end. Ford was always a pawn to Bill, physically and metaphorically, but the bonds within the town proved supreme over his own selfish desires.

Dipper rescinded his offer at apprenticeship, having chosen life with Mabel, and he'd be lying if it wasn't an incredibly envious move.

The family was resting from the aftermath and he must admit he is quite worn out as well. Tonight is not a night to be spent in the lab, he decides, when he hears the ding of the elevator. He turns and looks as the door opens.

It's Mabel.

The girl is his niece now, he tells himself, and she must only be that. He can't see himself possessing the same feelings he felt then anyway. It seems so long ago when it is far off in the future. He really needs to stop thinking about this. Where was that infernal memory wipe?

“Um,” her hands go behind her. “Dipper was supposed to check on you, but he passed out before he reached the door. So,” she nervously laughs, “here I am.”

“Yes,” he doesn't like knowing he makes her feel uncomfortable. “Are you doing alright yourself?”

“Fine because my brother is going back to California with me.” There is no mistaking the malice in her tone.

“He is indeed.” He scratches the back of his head. “I apologize for that.” She stays silent. “You have every right to be angry with me about it. I guess I never should have tried to encourage him to exclude himself from family as I had.”

“ _Our_  family grew with you," she reminds him he is still separating himself, "but all you two wanted to do was be down here. I'm,” her voice cracks, “glad he's not staying anymore, but you have to stop acting like we're—like _I'm_ not your family.”

He kneels to her level. “Mabel, you're an excellent person and I suppose I was allowing my own personal hangups to transfer over to Dipper.” He places a hand on her shoulder. “I just want you to know that were Dipper to choose to stay it would only bring out the absolute best in him.”

Mabel's eyes widen and she shakes from his grasp. “What?” Tears prick at the edges of her eyes. “You still plan to take my brother away from me?” Her sobs are becoming clearer.

“Mabel, please.” He reaches out. “That isn't what I meant. He isn't going to. You know this.”

She sniffles. “Do you really think it's better to grow up without a brother?”

This strikes a chord in him. He gave up Stanley at one point. He can't answer that question. “Mabel, I'm sorry. I had meant that I will be a resource for him, for both of you, if you need it and to keep you apart is wrong. I realize this now. My intention is for you two is to prosper.” He has too many past mistakes to make up for. “I know it means little but I want to get it across that I never meant to hurt you.”

Mabel calms her fear as she says, “do you mean it?”

On her face is distrust. “There are few people I can rely on and I know my family—you, Dipper, _and_ Stanley—are there to help with every aspect of my life. Being paranoid in this venture is what led to some of the biggest blunders of my life. I will try harder to be the grunkle you want.”

She is smiling a tiny goofy smile now. “You big dummy.”

“Could you ever forgive me, Mabel?”

“No.” He doesn't breathe. “You made a bad decision that is going to last.”

“It's true. We must all live with our faults.” He sighs.

“But.” She flashes him a hopeful smile. “You can start making it up to me, you oaf.” She surprises him by jumping and latching onto his shoulders.

“Of course.” He grabs her and wipes his face. “What would you like to start with, Mabel?” His fatigue has never won over her joy.

“Hm.” She rubs her chin. “Do you have any other cool weapons?”

 

* * *

 

Ford hears the elevator ding and knows it isn't Stan or Dipper.

He swivels in his chair. “Mabel?”

“I'm here to spend quality time with my recluse of a great uncle.” She smiles at him.

“Today is a bad day.” It's an empty excuse.

“But Grunkle Ford!”

“No, Mabel.” He can't tell her that he has been thinking about the Mabel he knew and how that is very dangerous. It is what he was afraid of in the beginning. To note similarities between the two of them.

“How are you going to tell me one thing and do the complete opposite, Mister!” She looks at him with fierce eyes. “You haven't kept your promises to Grunkle Stan or me!”

He doesn't recall any promises. “Now, I can assure you, you are jumping to conclusions. It's not going to be instantaneous, you know. These things take time.”

She juts out a finger at him, one eye closed. “You choose to not have time.”

He sighs. “Mabel, please. I'm willing you to understand that there are things I personally cannot deal with at this point in time, but will in the near future.” Stan is a process but Mabel is different story.

“Okay, but we're here in the present.”

 _That's precisely the problem_ , he thinks. He doesn't want to send the impression that Mabel isn't precious to him, but he doesn't want to complicate matters. “Mabel, I,” he takes a deep breath, looking at the ferocity in her eyes, “I care about you very much.”

Her eyes widen, shocked at the unexpected confession, and posture softens. She pulls at the sleeve of her sweater. “Maybe there is something I can do with your work?” He reels back his emotions to a simple twitch of an eye. “I can't add to all the math and science that you and Dipper do but I can make things look pretty! I'm very creative. A good compliment to this boring brainy stuff, you'll see!”

His face and body tense as he still his lungs. Then there are two hands on his cheeks as they gently press together. Mabel exaggerates a breath as he lets out his. “There you go. Like this, silly.”

He pulls her into a hug and she returns it. “I can help, Fordsy,” she says as she pats his back and he accepts this realization.

 

* * *

 

Mabel doesn't spend that much time with him, but when she does it is just like before. Fun he didn't know how to have.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Waddles was a genius?”

“No, I don't think you have.” Ford scribbles away at the papers on his desk.

“Well, he completely changed! He was a total bore, but in the end he chose me. Like you.”

He laughs. “I suppose everyone does, don't they?”

“Yep!” She appears at his side and jumps into his lap. “Hey, Ford. You like me, right?”

He coughs in his hand. “What? I mean—you're my niece, why wouldn't I?”

She laughs. “I think you know what I mean.” She picks up a pen and scribbles on a blank paper nearby. “For such an old man you sure act like a teenager in this.”

He sputters. He can't think of a way out of this.

“Ford!” He leaves the stampede of his thoughts as he looks down to the girl in his lap. He looks to the writing near her hand.

'I like you, too. You big nerd.'

“Mabel, I just want you to know that I don't plan to _ever_ hurt you or do anything—”

“You know, you haven't said it.”

He stops again. This girl is always leaving him without answers. He exhales. “I– I like you, Mabel.”

She swivels in his lap and hugs him. He hugs her back. “Mabel.”

He strokes her hair and familiarity rushes to his senses. He tilts his head to breath in as she nuzzles into his neck. Slowly, he begins to kiss along her hairline. The girl shudders. He knows this girl is a girl and he would wait until the end of the world for her. (Technically, he did do just that.) But this girl is perceptive, in a way unlike the rest of his family. She knew something was strange about him beyond the science. And, yes, she was so very right.

This girl isn't the Mabel he knew—no—but she is okay just the way she is right now.

Mabel's hands are on his neck, apprehensive clutches at his skin.

“Ford, Grunkle Ford.” She whines and Ford feels like he's cheating because he already knows everything about her, and that will be.

He kisses the tops of her head and cradles her head, fingers soothing the nape of her neck.

She has a sharp intake of air and shivers. “Great uncle Ford?”

“Yes, Mabel?” He says softly.

“Why does that feel so good?” She deliberately exaggerates mewls in her words.

He sighs deeply, inhaling the clean hair. “It's like being tickled. Instead of laughing, however, this one is associated with infatuation to people you are close to. Like this.”

“Like a romance?”

“Yes, Mabel. Like a romance.”

She holds onto him tighter and Ford does the same. He is going to be careful just like Mabel was with him. With the knowledge she possessed of this time before. Of now.

He faces her to kiss her gently, minding the braces, but Mabel kisses him harder with hands in his hair, gripping and tugging.

Ford has to end the kiss abruptly. It is affecting him too much. “Mabel, honey, I think we'll have to stop for now.”

She looks a little downcast, but smiles gleefully. “Okay, but,” she looks around the room, “can I stay here?”

He looks shocked. “Like, sleep?”

“Yeah!”

He laughs. “I don't see why not. But not here. I sleep on the couch over here.” He guides Mabel to another room.

 


	7. It's breakfast

**2012**

* * *

 

Stan was in the kitchen working on his shoddily made pancakes for the kids.

“Hello!” Mabel pops out of the from the corner and shocks Stan. He loosens his hold on the pan and stumbles before regaining his balance.

“Mabel! What the– what are you doing up so early? Scaring me half to death! Geez, kid. Is your brother up?”

“I dunno. I wasn't there.” She extends her arms to the side. “Look who's here for breakfast! Hoh-hoh.” Ford appears behind her.

Stan tries to keep his glares to a minimum. “Didn't expect you to want breakfast.”

“He can help!” Mabel supplies with arms wide in celebration. “And you two can make a brothers breakfast.”

She misses his eye roll. “Mabel, my brother is not the best cook.”

“Oh, P'shaw.” Mabel brushes his concern aside, going through the refrigerator. “Anything can be salvaged with a makeover.”

“Stanley,” Ford starts. “Mabel asked me to do this, so I will attempt to make something edible.”

“Hm.” Stanley tosses Ford a potholder. “Well, if Mabel trusts you in this then you get a pass.”

Mabel moves to the sit at the table with a glass of her juice as she looks on with a smile.

“Stan,” Ford looks at the pan, “this has your hair in it! It's vividly present yet there is concern for my skill?”

“Hey, this has been a bachelor's home for quite some time now. If I weren't used to the taste of my own hair, I'd be in trouble.”

“It _is_ a brimming research facility.” He picks up a squeezable plastic container. “How am I supposed to use this narrow bottle with its tiny opening to extract the flour? It's ridiculous! What happened to bags of flour?”

“It's added with water to create the batter, genius. Look.” Stan takes the bottle from his hands, flips the cap and lets the prepared mixture pour onto the hot pan.

“Certainly an update from the bowl and whisk.”

“It's also better with two energetic kids!” Stan laughs heartily.

“Now, I think Mabel's energy is a necessity.” Ford comments.

Stan looks back at the girl. “Pumpkin, what do you want with your pancake?”

“Whipped cream and jam.” Mabel and Ford say simultaneously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this nonsensical mess. Please read the accompanying pieces that are the reasons why I wrote this.


End file.
